Hell's Flames
by CeruleanCat
Summary: Kat has been living alone, in the woods, for nine years. When the forest is scheduled to be torn down, one thing leads to another, and Kat meets Ciel. Their lives have both been scarred by flames, but it is one thing to be the victim, a totally different thing to be the cause of those flames. By sheer force of will, no less. Ciel x OC Sebastian x OC


**Kat's Backstory-**

_Kat was born in England and lived happily until the age of five. The night before her birthday, her powers came. She, being just a child, couldn't control them, and she ended up setting her house up in flames. But, instead of normal fire, it glowed unnaturally red, and grew faster and higher than a normal fire could have. She had been sitting on the porch, playing with her dolls, but when one of her dolls' arms broke, she got angry. Very angry. Only a few seconds passed before the whole house was smoking. Abhorred by the growing flames, she clutched her favorite doll, Amethyst, to her chest and ran inside, calling out for her parents. She ran through the bright flames feeling nothing, and it wasn't until she reached the hall outside her parents' bedroom that she realized she hadn't been burned._

_She let out a bloodcurdling scream when she saw her skin was not harmed in any way. The walls began to crack around her as she yelled, but halted when she stopped. Tears leaked down her face, evaporating in the heat she knew was there, but couldn't feel. _

_She tentatively pushed open the crumbling door, and didn't say a word as she saw her parents' blackened corpses lying on their bed, their mouths still opened in grimaces of pain. Kat's young eyes widened, and she backed up with shaky legs. Then she turned and ran. The moment she stepped onto the grass, wet with the night's dew, the house creaked behind her, and began to fall._

_She stood there, gazing up to the falling house numbly, while the red flames cast shadows on her face. It took a few seconds before it hit her fully. She collapsed to the ground, her small frame shaking with sobs. She let out a wail of revulsion, and, even though it was coming from a small child, it came out very high. The remaining glass in the house could be heard shattering, the windows cracking, but not from the pressure of the falling house. _

_Kat sat there crying, her tears sizzling when they hit the grass. The house gave one final groan of protest, and collapsed completely. The fires, still high, burned what little remained of the frame, and her parents' bodies, to ash. _

_It couldn't have taken more than ten minutes. Kat wailed again, but this time it was not unheard. Voices called out from the other side of the house's remains, and Kat went silent._

_The little girl quickly stood, eyes filled to the brim with tears, and took one last glance at the rubble she had once called home before she started running as fast as her little legs could carry her. She heard the voices calling for her, but she ignored them and ran faster. She felt her feet lift off the ground, and looked down to see she was literally running on air. She ran for a few more seconds, and then stood in place, letting the gust carry her. She put her arms out to balance, and a grim smile came over her face. A smile no five year old should have. Mommy and daddy were going to teach me how to surf on the lake in a few weeks, she thought sadly, I guess this is how it feels._

_She kept balanced on the wind, and urged the gust to carry her faster to her destination; the forest by the lake. The lake was a short walk from the rubble she once called home, and she was reaching it even faster with the help of the wind. Tears streamed across her face, encouraged by the cold wind, and she felt her speed pick up. _

_Kat let out a small sniffle, and as she arrived to the edge of the forest, she let the wind fade, and dropped to the ground. The five year old looked up at the intimidating trees that towered above her. She took in a shaky breath, looked back to the smoke still rising a, very far, mile away, heard the frantic voices, and stepped into the forest." _

**Real Time-**

I relaxed into my makeshift hammock that rested high in the pine trees. I gazed out onto the lake, which sparkled no matter what happened around it. Even if people die right off its shore. Even if the water is manipulated ever so slightly, or the wind convinced to blow a slight bit faster. As winter was here, though, the lake sparkled with ice. Soon it would be too cold to be sleeping in just a hammock. I sat up without the slightest fear, even as the hammock swayed dangerously. I had learned a long time ago that I couldn't be hurt without a great deal of effort. I can't drown, can't be burned alive, my fire can heal my wounds, the wind can catch me if I fall... See my point?

I looked one last time through my supplies, took note of what I would need to find, and fell backwards. The wind acted as a pillow that caught me within a foot of the ground. I smirked, sitting a foot above the ground for a second, and then let the wind dissipate. I began the usual walk through the woods to where I knew I would find an old road, which would lead to the city, where I could use some of the measly money I had found to get a better blanket. I could just sleep with my flames 'on', but it would draw too much attention. As I was walking, I took in my appearance: My hair hung down, and I adjusted it too cover my eyes submissively. I come from a noble family, and the pride hasn't left me, despite the events I caused. If I were to look an upperclassman in the eye with that pride, I could be hit, and it wouldn't do me or them any good if I 'accidentally' set them on fire.

My clothes made me look like the perfect example of poor farm girl. I wore a faded pink skirt, although I wore a nice pair of fitting men's pants underneath them, in case I had to run (again), a blouse that has seen better days, under that a 'scandalous' form-fitting top, again, not easy to fight or run in the things 'decent' women wear.

I reached where I had learned the road to be, but was met by a temporary sign. I was ready to burn it down then and there, but, lucky for the sign, I didn't. It read: 'Road closed to deforestation'.

Now, I'm sure the rest of England thought 'Ooh, the wonderful Queen is helping the public by building something by the lake!'

I, however, did not see it that way. They had already turned a town near here (I don't know the name, something about dogs, maybe?) into a resort, and now they were taking my home away from me. The home where I had learned to control the force that destroyed my old one. It would be gone within a month.

To say I was mad was an understatement. I was beyond pissed. I could feel the flames building up inside of me, and after all of these years, I knew I had to let them out. It was just a matter of where.

I turned, and began walking, then jogging, then sprinting, finally wind-surfing down to where the lake met the river Thames. I walked out onto the ice, technically a few inches above it, and crouched above the middle. I placed my hands on the ice, and, feeling my hair light, I let out an angry, high pitched scream, and let the fire loose. I could imagine the glass from the city cracking, and it brought a smile to my face. _I'll show them_, I thought, _I'll show them what happens when you take_ my _home_.

I rose, watching the flames quickly melting the ice. But not quick enough. I stepped forward with one foot, at the same time I used my willpower to push the roaring, bright red flames, forward in time with my foot. I took another elongated step, and I sent the flames hurtling down the river. I knew it wouldn't hurt anyone too bad, but it helped with the anger. I smiled to myself, and felt my hair return to its normal state. I began walking back to my tree, but couldn't resist lifting myself a foot off the ground as I walked. It felt like I was walking on a light pillow, although it was in reality the gentle breeze. I knew the ends of my hair were colored the same as the flames that were melting the river behind me.

I reached my tree relatively soon, and began packing away my little belongings in my rolled up hammock. The last thing I put away was my only item from the old manor: My doll, Amethyst.

I put her gently between my other clothes, whispering, "Its okay, Amy, we'll find somewhere else."

I looked around at my nine year home. I felt a single, hot, tear run down my face, and I let myself feel the pain. It would be my reminder of another home, destroyed.


End file.
